Three nights had passed since returning from the raid. His crew still lingered at the hall before returning to their farms, only a fraction regularly quartered at the barracks as a standing guard. Most of them had returned wealthier than when they had left, but not enough to justify the risk to their lives. Ulfrik watched them now, in pairs or small groups muttering in low voices. Thrand had taken his drink and left early, to Ulfrik's relief. His drunken ravings had become increasingly intolerable.
Winters had turned harsh in recent years, and everyone counted losses in their families. Runa had delivered a daughter, a golden-haired child they called Brida. But the infant fell ill and died in her first winter. Halla had given Toki two sons, both dead within months of birth. Snorri's wife had not passed from the world alone.
A sudden movement broke Ulfrik's moody ruminations. Someone had dragged Humbert from his corner at the back of the hall, yelling at him to serve the high table. Humbert fell away, shot a deathly glare at the man, then approached the high table. Slavery did not sit well with him, and he did nothing unless forced. Now he reluctantly stood before Ulfrik, a sour expression demonstrating his distaste.
"The master needs Humbert?"
"I didn't call for you," Ulfrik said, sitting up straighter on his bench. "I think we're just sick of watching you relax all day. You need to be kissing my feet so I don't decide to make you tend flocks or harvest hay. Work in the hall is easy, but you won't even do that much."
Humbert's scowl softened and he tightened his cloak around his neck.
"Since we're all gathered, let's talk about Humbert's ransom." Ulfrik banged the table, earning the attention of his men. "Come up here and let's hear what this slave can get us."
Humbert's head tossed about, eyes wide and brows raised. Ulfrik laughed, letting the arrogant man suffer a moment's confusion. Toki joined him at the high table, slapping Ulfrik's shoulder as he sat. Others resettled closer to Humbert as Ulfrik gestured to him.
"You're a terrible slave, Humbert. You're a waste of my food and mead, and a stinking bed for lice in my hall. I'd like you better if you were a woman, and about thirty years younger." Chuckles followed and Humbert's face reddened. "So I want to get rid of you. I can sell your hide at the slave market in Dublin. But the journey would cost me more than your ancient body will earn. So tell me where I can ransom you."
Ulfrik stared into Humbert's eyes, prepared to judge his next words carefully.
"Ransom is not possible for poor old Humbert." He bowed his head, picking at the hem of his cloak.
"You're a Christian priest or a rich man, both the same as far as I know. Someone must want you back. Tell me where I can ransom you. Don't tell me it's not possible."
Humbert shook his head again. Snorri leaned forward on the table, peering through slitted eyes.
"He's a fucking liar," he announced. "Listen, slave, your eyes betray you. Look at me and tell me you can't be ransomed. Look at me!"
Humbert jumped and Ulfrik smiled at the spark of the old Snorri he remembered. Hesitantly meeting Snorri's gaze, Humbert explained himself.
"I am a priest; God forgive me for hiding it. But it is true, Humbert cannot be ransomed. Humbert is a wanted man now."
Ulfrik exchanged glances with Snorri and Toki. The deepening shadows of the dying hearth fire lent a graveness to the statement, as if the darkness conspired to hide Humbert's secret.
"Wanted is good," Toki said. "We ransom him back to whoever is after him."
"No!" Humbert's hands flew out to implore Ulfrik. "No! Humbert's from a faraway place where Northman cannot go."
The hall erupted with laughter; Humbert spun around to wave down their laughter.
"Humbert is true. Can the Northman enter Paris? That is Humbert's home, where the bishop is Humbert's enemy. He sold Humbert to the Northman so that they will take him far away and never return. The bishop will not want Humbert back, will not pay gold to see Humbert again."
His outburst silenced the men. Ulfrik folded his arms and studied the slave, who quivered and shrunk as if expecting a blow. His bearing, however frightened he appeared, belied something else, another layer to his tale not yet revealed.
"And so your story to me is you are worthless? Well, I guess I was wrong about you. There's another way you can serve me. Winter is coming and the gods have been cruel to us these years. Since you can't bring us gold, then you can bring us favor with the gods."
Humbert grew still, his hands slowly dropping to his sides. Ulfrik relished knocking down the slave's arrogance.
"Men, secure him. At dawn we will strangle him in Odin's name by the sacred stone."
Without delay, the two closest men seized him with wicked delight. Humbert howled as if already in his death throes.
"Wait! I have a secret! Let me tell you about the gold!" Thrashing between the two laughing men, he pleaded to Ulfrik.
"Hold on, then. You have a secret? What a surprise." Ulfrik smiled at Snorri, who returned a satisfied wink.
"Yes, Humbert knows the bishop's secret treasure." He glanced around the room, nodding and eyes full of hope. "This is why the bishop betrayed Humbert. Because I caught the bishop taking heathen gold, late in the night from foreign men who want to control the bishop. He took ancient gold to make himself rich and hid it where Humbert knows. The bishop learned I discovered him. He cannot kill Humbert, not with his own hand, for God would call it a great sin to kill a priest. So he tricked Humbert with a promise to share the gold."
The men holding Humbert let him go as he gained confidence in his tale. His face fattened with delight and Ulfrik leaned forward in interest.
"He put a sack on Humbert's head." He mimicked a sack drawn over an imaginary head. "Then he hit Humbert and tied me down. To the Northmen I was given, and was made a slave for so long. Humbert does not know how long."
He surveyed the now attentive group, his mouth bent in solemn despair.
"Nice story," Ulfrik said, arms still folded and head leaned back. "But how is this helping your situation?"
"Because Humbert can show you the gold." His tone implied the words, "you fool," and his eyes flashed irritation. "You take Humbert to Paris and help me get revenge. Humbert shows you the hidden treasure. Understand?"
"I thought Northmen can't enter Paris?" Ulfrik stood, shaking his head. "You're just delaying for your life. You go to Odin at dawn."
"No! It is true!" Humbert crashed to his knees. "Humbert knows the secret ways, the ways to the abbey and the bishop. If Humbert lies, you can kill me there. Please, believe me."
Tears began to stream from his eyes and his lips quavered as he folded his hands. Ulfrik regarded him. The tale might be genuine, but the conniving of the Christian priests was famous. He could no longer verify it with Humbert's former owners, all long dead. He also did not have much heart for human sacrifice, believing instead the gods valued lives of strong men slain in fair combat over wormy slaves throttled while bound. His tongue prodded his cheek as Humbert whimpered at his feet. Eyes fell on him for a decision.
"Stop crying and stand like a man. I'll consider your story. In the meantime, be a better slave or I'll forget about Paris and your ancient gold."
Humbert stood, wiping away tears with the back of his arm. "You will not regret helping Humbert."
Ulfrik wanted to laugh, but in the dark places of Humbert's eyes he glimpsed a coldness that instead made him turn in disgust.
CHAPTER THREE